


Rebuilding the Colour

by Wishful86



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Bit of daftness with feelings, Friendship, Gen, fund raising, not exactly historically accurate, working together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishful86/pseuds/Wishful86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a fill for this prompt over on bbc kinkmeme:<br/>So, as we saw in The Homecoming, Aramis is a bit of a fan of church architecture. Unfortunately in the course of Fighting Crime, the musketeers have accidentally destroyed a beautiful church window.</p><p>Cue somewhat anachronistic fund raising shenanigans.</p><p>Hope you enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shatter

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone, like me, struggled to get to grips with what anachronistic means- it basically means I can go a bit historically inaccurate with my ideas on how they raise the cash.

They always did their best to avoid situations like this but sometimes, like now, it was made impossible. This time they were being forced to fight in the streets of Paris, darting in and out of the innocent Parisian people, thanks to a group of red guards who had once again failed to keep charge of their prisoners effectively. 

“Why do I always feel like we’re left to clean up their mess?” Porthos shouted over at his friends after knocking one of his opponents to the ground.

d’Artagnan ran over and made quick work of binding the prisoner’s hands together while he was still unconscious. He then gestured to one of the nearby red guards, “Take him away. I am assuming you’ll be able to keep hold of him now.”

The red guard sneered but he wasn’t in a position to argue so he did as was told. Over the other side of the street, Porthos could see Athos also ordering red guards. He presumed it was something to do with the couple of prisoners beside him on the floor that were now tied together looking dazed and confused. 

“Not in the church!” Aramis’ yell caught all their attention. He was racing after a couple of red guards who had taken their fight into St. Joseph’s. Athos, Porthos and d’Artganan shared a look before chasing after their friend. 

Inside the church, it was chaos. The three prisoners left to be apprehended were picking up every available item to use as a weapon against the guards that were trying to capture them. The guards were retaliating in kind. Tables, candles, books were being thrown with reckless abandon and absolutely no respect in sight. This was clearly horrifying the priest who Aramis had dragged into a corner away from the violence. 

Athos and Porthos quickly grabbed hold of the guards and pushed them aside. Aramis sort to help them when d’Artganan took over protecting the priest. 

With the guards out of the way, the fight calmed as the musketeers and prisoners circled each other; each side weighing up their options. 

“This stops here,” Athos stated firmly, “You can come quietly or we will end this.” 

Aramis moved towards Athos, “I agree but perhaps we could move this outside of the church?”

“We’re not going anywhere!” One of the prisoners growled as he lunged forward with a dagger which clashed with Aramis’ sword.

The fight quickly started up again; each musketeer facing a prisoner. There was really no contest and it would have ended just as quick, however, a disgruntled red guard decided to make an unwelcome reappearance. 

The shot rang out. The bullet clipped Athos’s opponent on the arm but carried on through the stain glass window behind him. Cracks appeared immediately around the hole but the damage seemed contained to one corner.

d’Artganan had to hold back the priest from attacking the red guard. He was furious but so was Aramis and with no one stopping him the guard ended up with a heavy punch to the gut. 

Unfortunately, being momentarily distracted, Aramis took his eyes off of his opponent who took the opportunity to grab hold of the musketeer round the neck and force a gun to his forehead. Athos, with his opponent distracted by his bleeding arm, acted quickly and pulled out his own gun. His shot hit the target and Aramis’ was instantly freed. The prisoner however made his final mark as he fell backwards, taking a candle stand with him, he hit the previously damaged window. The cracks inched bigger but the pressure eventually proved too much and the whole thing shattered. With the sun shining in from outside, the shards of glass cast a rainbow as they fell; it was devastatingly beautiful. 

Porthos used the unexpected event to finally end the fight with the last standing prisoner but no-one felt like celebrating. This did not feel like a win. 

There was silence. 

d’Artagnan finally allowed the priest to move and he walked slowly over to where the glass lay covering the floor. 

Aramis couldn’t look. He felt sick. He went to sit down and ran shaky hands through his hair. 

Porthos sent Athos a pointed look and then went and sat by his friend putting a comforting arm on his shoulder. 

d’Artganan, at something of a loss, decided to try and straighten up what he could. He began righting tables and restacking books. 

Athos nodded at the Gascon approvingly and then moved to stand by the priest, “We will fix this Father. I don’t know how. But we will.”

...


	2. Plans

"Why are you lot cluttering up my kitchen this time?" Constance asked from the head of the table. Her table. She had only left temporarily to get food from the market and it seemed in her absence her lodger had decided to invite his friends over. Again.

"We are holding a planning meeting," d'Artagnan told her with a smile.

Constance put her hands on her hips, "And you couldn't do this at the garrison? Or, you know, one of your own places?"

"Errrr, yeah," d'Artagnan grinned cheekily, "But your place is nicer."

"And don't pretend you don't like us here," Aramis said raising his brow. Constance sighed and shook her head. These men were incorrigible. 

Porthos raised his cup towards her, "Perhaps you could help?"

"Oh no. No, no, no. I know all about your plans remember. I've been a prostitute and a wet nurse for you. Its only a matter of time before you've got me dressed as a clown juggling geese."

"Geese?" d'Artagnan snorted.

"I dunno, I think I'd pay to see Constance try and juggle geese," Porthos chuckled.

"That’s a brilliant idea!" Aramis suddenly announced causing his four companions to look at him like he was crazy.

"I was joking," Porthos stated with a slight hint of worry.

Aramis was filled with a new energy as he nodded, "But you said you'd pay-"

"Constance is not juggling geese, Aramis," Athos cut in thinking things were about to get out of hand.

"No, just listen, Constance-" Aramis tried again.

"I'm not juggling geese."

"No one is juggling geese!" Aramis shouted a little too loud and forcefully. He glanced round at the rather shocked faces of his friends, "Sorry."

"I could probably juggle geese," Porthos mused.

Aramis rolled his eyes, "What I was trying to say is the idea that we could get people to pay to see something is a good idea."

"Pay to see what?" Athos asked as he sat back and folded his arms.

"I don't know yet."

"Whats this for?" Constance questioned. She pulled up a chair, deciding to join the men.

D'Artagnan answered, "We're trying to raise money."

"For the new stained glass window at St. Joseph's," Athos expanded.

“Ah, I heard about that,” Constance winced. The gossip about the window and who was responsible had spread fast and wide. 

“We’re trying to make it right,” Aramis looked at her. His honest brown eyes were unable to hide the guilt and sadness he felt about the window. St Joseph’s was the church he had frequented since arriving in Paris. He loved everything about that building and the fact that he had played a part in damaging it weighed heavily on his heart. 

Constance smiled gently and warmly at him, “Well then, you can count me in this plan.”

Aramis smiled in thanks. 

“Just no geese juggling,” Constance confirmed causing all the other men to smile too. 

“We need to think of something different though. Something that will get people’s attention,” d’Artagnan said, thinking aloud.

For a few moments, they sat quietly with their own thoughts but then a mischievous expression began to take over Constance’s face.

d’Artganan was the first to notice, “What? What are you thinking?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

“Do tell?” Aramis encouraged.

“You won’t like it…”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep...I'm a Firefly fan :-)


	3. Proud

As the second of Athos’ arms were locked into place, he made one last complaint, “I hate this.”

Porthos shook his head, stepping back to see everything was set ready. “Yes but...” he prompted. 

“But we love Aramis and Aramis loves the church,” Athos said flatly. 

Aramis, who was busy making sure d’Artagnan was also ready, put a hand on his heart, “Said with such feeling.” 

Athos narrowed his eyes, “I will kill you.”

“You know, I’m getting mixed signals,” Aramis said, jokily as he stepped back to join Porthos. 

Porthos chuckled, “You both set?”

“As we’ll ever be,” d’Artagnan sighed, “Although, I think Constance owes us.”

“Constance has been responsible for cleaning us all up afterwards- I think she’s paid her dues,” Aramis reminded the boy who relented with a nod. 

“Can we just get on with it?” Athos groaned. 

“Fair enough,” Aramis shrugged with a smirk. Both he and Porthos moved to the side and turned to the awaiting public. 

“Go ahead,” Porthos said simply although he broke out into a huge grin as Athos and d’Artganan proceeded to get covered in a variety of rotten foods while being held up in the stocks.

It was only a shame they had chosen to go up in pairs because the look of absolute thunder on Athos’ face while a banana peel dripped off the top of his head, is something that d’Artagnan should have had the pleasure of seeing. Aramis and Porthos were certainly finding it very amusing. Truth be told, while Aramis was extremely grateful to all his friends for supporting his endeavour to raise money, the fact that Athos was fully joining in made him fill with joy. An Athos of old would not have ever considered this and so it spoke volumes for how the man had changed and of the depth of their friendship. 

The stocks had been Constance’s brilliant idea. The Musketeer’s were well respected and revered amongst the majority of people in Paris. However, their reputation had taken a bit of a knock due to the church window. Therefore Constance thought that if they were willing to take a small hit but for a good cause then perhaps it would capture people’s attention. And gosh had it! Once people knew that for a reasonable price, you could throw rubbish at your favourite Musketeer and the money would go to fix the window, the whole thing had turned into an event. 

The event was currently being held at the garrison; a place where they knew red guards wouldn’t cause a problem. 

One corner of the yard was reserved for the stocks; all the musketeers had agreed to take part at various times throughout the afternoon with the only rule, put forth by Aramis as a ploy to get more involved, being that they couldn’t throw things at each other. 

Father Henry of St Joseph’s upon hearing of the Musketeer’s plan had offered his services and with most of the congregation knowing Aramis, they had put in their suggestions of what could be done; the suggestion that seemed most dominant was the Musketeers giving short lessons and demonstrations of what they could do. Therefore, one half of the garrison was taken up with just that. Adults and children alike were broken off into groups, sat or standing around musketeers who were enjoying showing off their elite skills to an admiring, paying audience. It was the perfect counterbalance to the embarrassment they enjured in the stocks. 

Individuals had also stepped up to help; the local baker had shown incredible kindness and had set up a stall with a vast array of his goods for sale; he would donate the money he made to the cause. 

Porthos and Aramis turned away from the stocks and began to navigate their way through the growing crowds, towards the bakers stall, when they were stopped by a couple of excited children. 

“Monsieur! Monsieur” one of the children said excitedly pulling at Porthos’s arm, “Is it true Monsieur Aramis is going to shoot a melon off your head?”

Porthos smiled and lent down towards the child, “No...he’s going to shoot an apple off my head.”

The children both gasped. “But an apple is so small!” the other child exclaimed, eyes gleaming with disbelief. 

“Just you watch later,” Porthos whispered to them both with a wink. The children smiled delightedly and then ran off to tell their friends. Porthos straightened only to come face to face with Aramis who had one eyebrow raised. 

“An apple?” 

“Aramis, you could shoot a melon off my head in your sleep. It’s too easy for you.”

“They don’t know that.”

Porthos merely shrugged in response. 

“Fine, on your head be it,” Aramis stated and then he grinned, “Literally.”

Porthos laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Aramis returned the clap and then happened to glance upwards. Treville was on the balcony surveying the garrison. This was nothing new, except the garrison was not alive with its usual hub of activity today. No, today was very different. Aramis frowned momentarily. 

“You alright?” Porthos asked showing how finely tuned he was to Aramis’ expressions. 

Aramis nodded. “Yes, just...I’ll be back,” he said gesturing up to Treville. 

Porthos understood and watched as his friend began climbing up the stairs towards their Captain. 

“Not what you normally see,” Aramis started tentatively as he walked to stand by Treville. 

“Not quite,” Treville said. He didn’t turn to look at the younger man and his expression was unreadable.

“Look, Captain, I never expected it to-“

“Don’t. Stop,” Treville turned to face him now, “Don’t you dare apologise for this.”

Seeing that the younger man was at a loss as to where to go in the conversation, Treville smiled and continued, “I can’t say this is something I ever imagined when I became captain of this regiment but I can honestly say that right now, I’ve never been prouder of you all.”

The warmth Aramis felt in that moment was almost overwhelming. After a minute, he grinned, “Can you repeat that to Athos later, please?”

Treville snorted and patted a hand on Aramis’ shoulder, “Later...isn’t that when you’re shooting apples off Porthos’ head?”

Aramis blinked, “You are in on it too?”

“You could shoot a melon blindfolded.”

“Ha! Porthos wanted to try that once.”

“What a terrifying thought.”

“You’re telling me.” 

 

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up- What does the Cardinal make of all of this?


	4. Progress

Captain Treville didn’t think he had ever rolled his eyes as much in a meeting as he had in this one. For the past fifteen minutes, the Cardinal had been rambling on about the inappropriateness of musketeer behavior having got wind of the fundraising activities at the garrison. 

“These men are supposed to be protecting you, your Highness, not messing around throwing rubbish and shooting melons,” the Cardinal continued haughtily as he paced in front of the thrown. 

The Queen, who had done her own fair share of eye rolling, decided she had had quite enough, “What I would very much like to hear,” she cut through clearly and purposefully making the Cardinal stop mid-step and her husband to be shaken out of his daydreaming , “is Captain Treville’s side of the story.”

Being unable to glare at the Queen, the Cardinal turned to stare daggers at the Captain. Treville ignored him and sent the Queen a grateful nod, “With respect Cardinal,” the Captain began and if looks could kill, he would’ve been dead, “ My men were merely trying to right an unfortunate wrong-“

“Ah yes!” The Cardinal smirked thinking he had regained the upper hand again, “St Joseph’s window.”

“St Joseph’s window?” the King asked sitting forward in his chair.

“Yes, you see, the Musketeers rather clumsily broke the beautiful stained glass window there last week.”

“Is this true, Treville?” The Kind raised his brow surprised.

“Not entirely.”

“So you don’t deny it?” The Cardinal accused.

The Queen sighed, “Can we please hear from the Captain?”

Reluctantly, the Cardinal took a step backwards, “Very well.”

Captain Treville sighed, “It is true; there was an unfortunate incident in the church and the stained glass window was broken but my men are doing all they can to replace it.”

“By shooting melons?” The King said sceptically causing the Cardinal to smirk once more. 

“Well, yes. Except not. It was apples actually,” Treville, now that he thought about it, struggled to think of how exactly to explain the events at the garrison, “The musketeers put on a show where one shot an apple off another’s head. People paid to watch. The money goes towards a new window.” He finished with a nod. That should do it.

Although, the look on the King’s face didn’t inspire confidence. “That’s preposterous” he exclaimed. 

The Cardinal couldn’t have looked more pleased if he tried, “That is exactly my opinion.”

“No one can shoot an apple off a man’s head, “The Kind expanded. Instantly the Captain and the Cardinal’s expression’s switched places, “Or rather no man would let him.”

Treville laughed, “You’ve met Porthos and Aramis.”

“Aramis?” The Queen questioned rather a little too forcefully before she could stop herself .Three sets of eyes fell on her so she quickly tried to recover, “He’s very good with a gun, correct? I’m guessing he’d be the shooter?”

Treville quirked his brow slightly at the interest but answered, “Yes. Unless we wanted a Musketeer with no head.”

“Some would say you’d not be able to tell the difference,” The Cardinal drawled.

“Now, now,” The King cut in diplomatically. He could sense the Captain had tensed, “Back to the issue of the window.”

“I’m sorry?” The Cardinal was confused. 

“St. Joseph’s window, Cardinal. Do keep up!” The King snapped mildly.

“Yes, your Highness, but what may I ask is the issue?” It really did pain the Cardinal to stay polite sometimes. 

“We should help” The Queen stated like it was obvious.

“Hmmm... but how?” Her husband mused as he drummed his fingers on the arm of the thrown, “we can’t pay for it outright. Gosh no. That would set an awful precedence. We’d be paying for every broken thing in the city.”

“So, why, if I may be so bold, do you want to help this time?” The Cardinal was not enjoying this meeting at all now. 

“Because the Musketeers are my men, Cardinal,” the King told him. 

Treville decided if he was ever going to seize a moment to drop the last piece of information into the conversation, it had to be now, “You’d think that since the Red Guard’s were also involved in the accident, you’d be more inclined to help yourself Cardinal.”

The darkness that suddenly clouded the Cardinal’s face was something to behold. Treville enjoyed it immensely when the other man was forced into admitting the whole story to the King. He enjoyed it even more when it was decided that the Red Guard’s must also do their part for the funds. He was practically ecstatic when he able to return to the garrison and tell Aramis that the Queen would be holding a jewellery auction with a portion of the profits going to the funds.

However, he wasn’t too thrilled that in his absence, his men had come up with some cock-eyed plan of doing a marathon run through the city. They really shouldn’t be left alone.  
...


End file.
